Stealing Rose (The Fowler Sisters #2)(75)

“She’s insane. Besides, she knows I’m with someone else and doesn’t give a shit,” I mutter.

“Yeah, what’s up with that anyway? Who is she? The girl you’re with. I’m curious.”

“You don’t know her,” I say quickly, too quickly. Though he probably does know Rose. At the very least he should know Violet and Lily.

“That means I must totally know her. Hmm.” He takes my arm and drags me back into the living room, which is crowded with people. At least the music has lowered, so it’s not so f*cking loud. Probably got turned down so as not to disturb the neighbors.

I glance around the room, spotting her in an instant. Whitney is sitting on a couch crowded with other people, bent over a silver tray with white lines of powder on it, and I pull my arm out of Mitchell’s grip.

I don’t want to deal with Whitney now. She’s going to be a nightmare. “I gotta go. Seriously.”

“Whitney! I found him,” Mitchell crows, pointing at me with a jerk of his thumb.

Whitney lifts her head and wipes delicately at her nose, a giant smile on her face. She springs up from the couch and runs over to me, slinging her arms around my neck and slamming her body into mine. She’s wearing a little top and shorts, her ass cheeks practically hanging out, and she tries to give me a smacking kiss on the cheek but I dodge away from her.

She’s high as f*ck, zipping along at a million miles a minute and on the verge of being uncontrollable.

“You’re such a party pooper, not letting me kiss you. Don’t you miss my kisses?” She frowns, her arms still around me, her head slung back and her breasts smashed against my chest. Her pupils are huge—I can hardly see the color of her eyes—and her cheeks are flushed. “Come on, Caden. One last time together before you go back to New York. Please?”

I’m assuming Mitchell told her I’m hitching a ride back home with him. “I don’t think so.” I try to disentangle myself from her arms, but she firms her grip. “Come on, Whit. Let me go. Don’t make a scene.”

She pouts and slips one hand down to streak her fingers along my chest. I grab hold of her wrist, stopping her path, and she curls her hand into a fist, giving me a little punch. “Ever since you hooked up with Rose Fowler you’ve become a real dick.”

“Move.” I rest my other hand on her waist, ready to push her out of my way, but she doesn’t so much as budge.

And her next words leave me cold.

“I think they’ve got you figured out, Caden. Violet’s been asking me lots of nosy questions lately, all about you.” She pokes her index finger into my chest, hard. “Maybe they know your secret.”

“Ow.” I rub my chest, unease sweeping over me. No way could they know my secret. Who could tell them? “You didn’t say anything, did you?”

“No, of course not. I’m your friend.” Her indignant tone is almost amusing. “But I can keep my mouth shut for good if you give me another chance. In bed.” She bats her eyelashes at me and giggles.

Jesus. She won’t let up. “It’s not going to happen between us, Whit. Never again. So give it up.” I shove away from her and she stumbles backward, her cheeks red, her eyes flashing. I’m walking away from her when she shouts for everyone to hear.

“You’re a f*cking prick, Caden Kingsley! I hope you get an STD and your dick falls off,” she yells, making Mitchell laugh.

I send him a look and start for the foyer. “I’m out,” I tell him, giving him the finger as I stride toward the door, stopping in my tracks when I see who’s standing there as still as a statue, watching me.

Rose.

My heart thundering, I take a step toward her and then stop. She looks … cold. Empty. How much did she see? How much did she hear? Having her show up here is like my two worlds colliding, and I’m not sure I’m prepared for the fallout.

“Baby.” I pause, shocked at how she doesn’t so much as move an inch, how … plastic her expression is. “What are you doing here?”

Rose studies me for so long I’m afraid she’s not going to answer. “I guess I should be asking you the same thing,” she finally says coldly, folding her arms in front of herself. “Considering Whitney’s hanging all over you.”

So she saw Whitney touching me. Great. “She’s drunk. High. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.”

“Don’t make excuses for her.” Rose’s eyes flash with anger.

Fuck. I start to approach her, but the look on her face tells me I need to stay back. “How did you find this place?”

“Whitney.” Rose spits her name out. “She invited Violet and Ryder to come by after work. Nice, huh? Fun little party I supposedly knew nothing about?”

“I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you,” I explain. “I told you I was going to see my friend.”

“Whatever.” She waves a hand, her lip curling in disgust. “I pulled one over on Whitney anyway. She didn’t know that when she was texting Violet the directions to this place, it was me that was asking for them.” She comes down the short steps of the foyer, heading straight for me. Her posture is perfect, her head lifted, but I see the sadness in her gaze. And the anger. “I had an interesting conversation with Violet earlier.”